


I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In

by Blue_Iris



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fingerfucking, Oneshot, Sex in a Car, however you wanna view it, not really that graphic, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:16:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Iris/pseuds/Blue_Iris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And I wish I could be ashamed for still wanting you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In

He raises an eyebrow at the song currently playing on her iPod. “Seriously?”

She blushes and removes her headphones. “I like how the song sounds, all right? Doesn’t mean I like the lyrics, or her.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, sweetheart,” he laughs, such a harsh sound coming from that nice mouth, even with that steaming cigarette he’s been nursing for the past thirty minutes.

She can’t help but stare at his mouth, his everything, though she’s certain she shouldn’t show such fascination. His blue eyes give her a sharp glance, one that shoots through her and hits something inside that makes her chest both hurt and warm at the same time. She looks away, focusing her gaze on what’s outside the window on her side, but she still feels him looking at her.

“It’s such a crap song, though. All her songs are crap,” he says. “And she’s a crap singer. I mean, even Adele isn’t as bad as her—”

She turns and glares. “Don’t even dare to compare her to Adele!”

He smirks, then, after stifling his cigarette and tossing it out the window, he leans over her, his eyes ( _cold, oh, so cold_ ) staring into her green. His other arm reaches around her shoulder and taps his thumb against her neck. She swallows, wanting to push him away and grab the collar of his leather jacket and pull him closer. She hates this conflict; it’s rising in her more often.

“Did I hit a nerve?” He raises an eyebrow.

She tries to look anywhere but at him. “You always hit a nerve.”

“Lucky me,” it’s a purr, and she knows his smirk has widened. He leans down further and brushes his lips against her bare shoulder, his breath hot. ( _Why did I decide to wear this dress again?_ ) She exhales shakily and licks her lips, trying to search for a distraction, to ignore the urge to press her mouth to his. Like the stars outside. They look so nice tonight, and with that full moon too. The light reflecting from it is a blue that is both light and dark, and it makes something inside her flutter, reminding her of—

_God bloody damn it._

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something.” He fingers the strap of her dress and slides it down her shoulder. “You might as well tell me.”

The heat in her cheeks is burning. “You’ll make fun of me.”

“I always do that. What’s one more joke at your expense?”

“I just…I was just thinking.”

“About…?”

“How you are going to get that head out of your arse. I’m starting to get concerned.”

He is silent for a moment, then he drops his head on her shoulder—“Pfft!”

Despite everything, she allows herself to smile as he laughs into her skin, so hard he’s having trouble breathing, it sounds like. She wishes he was always this happy.

“God, that—damn, Rosie,” he gasps, then picks up his head and leans back into his seat, smiling. “That…that wasn’t bad.”

Rosa smirks. “Well, I try.”

He chuckles a little and just gives her this look that she can never read. There’s nothing about him that Rosa can read. She’s still not sure if she wants to. Biting her lip, she moves a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. When she glances back, the blue in his eyes have darkened in a way that always makes a warmth thrum inside her. Rosa scowls.

 _Oh, fuck it._ She leans towards him, grabs the back of his head and presses her mouth to his. The movement is probably clumsy and her lack of experience is probably shining through and not impressing him, but Rosa can’t find it in her to care. Whatever he feels probably isn’t hindering him either, because he’s kissing her back. Despite herself, Rosa moans a bit then presses closer to him, tilting her head and opening herself up to him, as if to make an offering; and of course, because he’s greedy and opportunistic, he gladly takes pleasure in what she’s giving him.

When they both need to get up to breathe, Rosa parts from him, but makes sure not to go too far.

“Get over here,” he breathes, his hands already going to her waist.

Nodding, Rosa kisses him again, wraps her arms around his neck, and then lifts herself onto his lap. From then on, all movement is a flurry of kissing and furious touching and pulling at clothes. Soon, the buttons on the front of her dress are undone, and she’s left somewhat exposed. Rosa would like to take off his shirt, to scratch (maybe even bite) at his skin, feel the tight muscles that contribute to his build, but he won’t allow it. He never likes taking his clothes off during this.

Growling, he presses her against the dashboard and starts mouthing at her neck, one hand squeezing at her breasts, and the other moving down to her leg, under her skirt, and then—

Rosa shudders briefly, then pulls on his blonde hair and brings his mouth up to hers, into a deep kiss. He nibbles on her lip and continues pleasuring her with his fingers. He kisses down her chin, to the area by her earlobe, moving harder, deeper inside her. Rosa sighs and grips his broad shoulders, closing her eyes.

“Alfred,” she whispers, her breathe shuddering.

“Already?” He smirks against her neck. “I’m barely doing anything.”

“Oh, just shut up, _moron_ —”

“Okay, okay.”

As his fingers continue to work her, a sharp feeling begins to pierce through Rosa. Gritting her teeth, she starts to move her hips in time with Alfred’s movements, wanting more, wanting to ease the knot tightening inside her. Alfred leans his forehead close to hers, watching her with lidded eyes and a slightly parted mouth.

When she finally falls apart around and on his fingers, back arching and body shuddering, the only sound Rosa makes is a squeak—the sound she always makes when she comes, just another reason to be embarrassed with herself. She snaps her hands over her mouth and regards Alfred with a wary stare. She’s expecting him to make fun of her for it, like always; instead, there’s still that hungry darkness in his blue eyes.

“You got a condom?” Alfred asks.

Rosa nods, still feeling odd and stifled under that look of his.

“Good. Go to the back, I’ll get it.”

Rosa again nods, and then goes to the back seat, feeling her stomach flutter with anticipation and anxiety, even as she starts to remove her underwear. She should probably head home, to her foster parents and her little brother. What if Timo or Berwald would wake up and decide to check on her? They would be so worried if they saw her empty bed. And if they caught her with Alfred, they would get angry—or at least Timo would. They warned her about him. Everyone in school had warned her about him, including Mattie, Alfred’s own cousin. “Trouble,” they said; that’s all Alfred Jones brings with him.

Of course, even without them telling her that, Rosa knew. Like Taylor Swift in her song, Rosa knew the moment she first saw him driving to school in the metal death trap they’re in now, with a speed that should have attracted police officers; since he first pulled out his cigarette; since he blew the smoke in her face when she first yelled at him, telling him that smoking was prohibited on school grounds—she has the right to do so, being student council vice president and all—yes, Rosa knew and still knows that Alfred Jones is trouble.

“Awesome, you got the good ones,” Alfred grins back at her, holding up a packet from the condoms she recently bought.

Despite her flush, Rosa shrugs. “I was just following the cashier’s advice. She said that these were the best.”

Alfred chuckles, then moves to sit next to her. He pockets the condom in his jacket, and then places his hand on the back of her neck, pulling Rosa to him, the two of them meeting to start kissing again. Rosa presses herself to him, bringing herself onto his lap again, making sure to grind her pelvis against the hardness pressing against her thigh. Alfred tilts his head and deepens the kiss, grinding back against her. Then, with a hand pressing to the small of her back, he leans forward until Rosa’s back was lying on the cushion. As he starts undoing his belt, Rosa sits up and joins his hand—wanting to touch, to feel, to do _something_ to him—but Alfred grabs her hand and immediately pins her back against the seat, shaking his head in a negative, this odd, blank look on his face.

Rosa frowns, feeling both irritated and worried. _Why won’t you ever let me touch you?_

As if sensing her question, Alfred gives her a smile—one that looks similar to the one he wore when he rode his motorcycle for the first time, when he decided to go without his helmet, most likely to get a reaction from Rosa (which he did, much to her chagrin)—but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Then he grasps her other hand and brings the two together, just a few inches above her head.

“Knew I should have brought the rope tonight,” he murmurs, smirking when Rosa’s eyes widen. “Will you be okay, keeping these here for now?”

Gulping, Rosa nods and grips the edge of the seat. She watches as Alfred sits back up and goes back to undoing his belt. Then he unzips his pants and brings himself out. Rosa licks her lips, still feeling that desire to touch, but she doesn’t move her hands. He wouldn’t get angry if she moved, but Rosa still won’t—not until he gives her the okay.

Alfred gets out the packet and tears open the wrapper with his teeth. He takes out the condom and slides it on his dick. Then, giving Rosa a lidded gaze, he lifts up her hips and guides himself inside.

_Yes, I know you’re trouble._

Rosa sighs when he moves, feeling him brush up against all the right areas inside her, making her start to feel that sharp sensation again. Through her eyelashes, she sees Alfred smirk down at her.

_And I wish I could be ashamed for still wanting you._

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of an experiment, a test to see if I can write a love/sex scene.
> 
> Edit: I suppose one can say this is my little antithesis to Taylor Swift's song--which is catchy. I just don't like her that much, really.


End file.
